When Artemis reached her lodgings, her husband was still asleep; but he had evidently been very restless, for she could see by the light shed by the lamp in the street that the sheet that had covered him was flung to one side. He was lying on his back, with his arms stretched out on either side of him.
Cold and trembling, she stood looking down upon him in the half-darkness. Soon her face was wet with tears, though she made no sound; with a gesture of annoyance, she stopped weeping and conquered her mood of self-pity.
Having undressed, she crept into her little bed at the other side of the room, and lay still, waiting for Jason to waken. The clocks outside struck midnight. But Jason slept on in silence, and soon Artemis began to wander in that land which lies midway between sleeping and waking.
It was nearly two o’clock when her husband’s voice wakened her.
“Yes, dear, I am here,” she said, slipping out of bed.
She lit the lamp, went into their other room, poured a glassful of milk into a pan, and brought it to their bedroom where she heated it over the lamp.
“It’s nearly two o’clock,” she said; “you haven’t had such a good sleep for a long time. Are you feeling better?”
“Yes, I think I am.”
She held the cup while he drank its contents. Then she smoothed his pillow and, taking a thin blanket from a cupboard, spread it over him.
Without a word he closed his eyes and in a few minutes he slept.